


mysterious charm

by ruruka



Series: three almost kisses and three what ifs [1]
Category: BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Summary: it’s a hot evening.





	mysterious charm

Marina had promised to have CiRCLE’s air conditioning fixed as soon as possible.

That had been eleven days ago- not that she’s counting. And that’s no stretch of it, Tomoe isn’t counting the swelter dripping each day they practice in the thick thick July, she only notes Himari’s whines every afternoon as she drags herself into the studio ten minutes after the other four.

“It’s _so hoooot_ ,” calls her gaze up from tightening a cymbal. Sweet vanilla catches her into a smirk cool enough to heal the agonizing heat. Himari drags her feet the whole way to dropping her bass bag beside them. Only does she straighten back to vibrancy once a quip tickles from Moca, and she’s right on top of her to ball fists beneath the chin and yelp back her own defense.

“Enough,” Ran settles before Tomoe’s the chance. The strap of her guitar’s rested atop her shoulders for a solid five already, moves the clink of all her rings to echo gainst a grip on the mic stand. “We’ve lost time already. Tsugumi, start with the riff we went over yesterday.”

“Ah, right..!” bleeds into opening electronica. Ahead of them, Ran clenches into herself with a breath, loses not a second in dipping forward to belt out that dirty lighting voice of hers.

And with that place ahead, they all have their own taken, all steady little chess pieces behind their queen; Tomoe quite likes the far back. She feels herself a bird perched over the rest, watching, protecting, a raven atop her nest to beat harmonies against the night.

...Perhaps she’s spent too much time with Ako lately. But Tomoe, she likes she likes she likes the look of the crowd whipping hoots and hollers, posters and red gleaming glow sticks in their faces. All for Afterglow. All for Ran, Moca, Tsugumi, Tomoe, and Himari. Celsius twists ropeburn about her throat to think on the pink glow burning her palm in another life.

Relent does not find them still, and if it weren’t for their summer pale keyboardist she doesn’t think Ran would even allow them the breaks between songs (not that’s she’s so thankful for Tsugumi being a fainter, but, well- _damn_  is it a hot evening). They work through a set, final bridge crawling with a fat bandana sculpting Moca’s bangs backward, a lolling tongue out of Himari in all the world’s desperation. She’s too awed by Ran’s ability to hold the wailing end note for its close half minute drawl to care for the sweat weeping around her own bicep.

They’re panting throughout the curl up of instruments back together. Tsugumi stumbles beneath the burden of her folded keyboard, caught with a toss away of drumsticks and panic in the eye. Aside from beading humiliation, Tsugumi bears no injury, hops back up to bow in shaky laughs at her savior. Tomoe returns the grin, sees her off out the studio door to return the instrument and catch herself a new weight in the process; she may swear someday that Himari’s stare her way oozes in envy, though quick as wit do her flushed cheeks unpuff to take a smile. Tomoe tilts her head a touch, makes the long vermillion cast back in a tie fall with it. It shakes further to mimic her skull again, and Tomoe’s back to deconstructing without another hitch until their leader strikes her tone into the air. “Let’s get going.”

Tomoe stiffens at the order, nose up pointed to tuck a thumb over the shoulder. “I gotta finish taking my drums apart. You guys can go on ahead.”

“I‘ll help!” Another glance proves Himari’s bare shoulder sticky just beside her own. Despite it, extending forward a pair of sticks fallen away, her beam is bright wet strawberry. Tomoe can’t suppress a mirroring.

“Alright, alright,” drawls Moca, guitar case slung over one shoulder, lifts the same arm to usher the other outward. “Saaya promised to save us anpan if we make it there by 8:30. It’s life or death, Ran.”

“It’s not life or death,” is Ran’s only murmuring, nods into the waves she receives on their trek from the studio door.

Tomoe thinks it’d be in her best interest to remember to breathe. She’s cool and collected Udagawa, right right, even been criticized for it, though the fawning outweighs. She’s cool, so being alone with a true blatant sugar tipped goddess slapped down to this Earth should drive her to no falter. She swallows a malt of pressure.

“Hey, Tomoe...” Between the thick of her chest slips a sweat. Himari looks a pure frat boy fool with her hat turned backward, tank top low cut, hands manicured to peach tinted perfection and makeup over the lashes silver glitter, and- and Tomoe wonders when the last time she’s actually laid eyes upon a college hound, mixed up in her mind perhaps with an angel. But- ah! _Get yourself together, get it all together._ Were it so conspicuous she’s traipsed past the boundaries called friendship (a hot while ago, should she be honest), she thinks a hammer deserves her teeth.

“Tomo _eee!_ ” blinks her to life again, where she’s stilled in the short camo of her top and leather down the legs, one hand snug around drumsticks she’s yet to set away in her staring. Now she leers only upon indigence aimed upward at her. “Ah-! Sorry, what’s up?”

Rounded out cheeks rattle in a _hmm..._ until Himari twists sweetness to clap and jolt. “How do you think we did today?” Another freeze, and she’s rolling into, “Same as always?”

Her head tips into a barked laugh. “I think we did pretty good. The chorus of the new song sounds crazy powerful in Ran’s voice.”

“Mmm...” Her single nod plays agreement, though she’s quick to move on (quick to forget the task of _helping_ ) to paddle palms against the other’s arm. “What about Moca, and Tsugu? And Tomoe- _chaaan?_ ”

The teasing colors her cheekbones a pinch. “Ah, we all did good, we’ve been practicing hard lately.” Knelt down to adjust the stand of the hi-hat, Tomoe pushes into smirking. “You were great, too, Himari.”

The recipient clenches into a fuss all the sudden, waving off her comment and blocking her face behind those hands. “I wasn’t gonna ask that! But...you really think so?”

Smirk shifts to laughter that Himari scolds the malice behind. With the cymbal pushed aside readied, Tomoe grips a thigh in one hand to push herself towering again, watches a finger twirl through soft cotton pink with Himari’s gaze sidelong, pouty. “Sometimes I wish I played something different... Most people don’t even know what a bass is, it’s like I could quit the band and all the songs would still sound the same!”

Such an abrupt front flip into gravity smacks her forehead bloodied. Tomoe stands broad at the top to intake her outburst, offers in time touch atop her shoulder. “Hey, you know, a bassist has the most important part in a band. You keep the rhythm going. Ran couldn’t sing without that. I couldn’t play my drums, either.”

Shock blooms over her. “But you’re the best drummer in the world!” Her head tilts with index kissing dolor another go. “I wish I could play as amazing as you...”

Tomoe’s lips purse into a bite of the cheek, though pop back to nod her along. “Nah, drumming is pretty easy. Go ahead, try.”

“Me?” Himari blinks, a point towards the face, then blares determination at every turn. “Alright, hey, hey, hoh, Himari power!”

Shaking off the exasperated adoration, Tomoe offers a hand out to the stool behind the kit, one swift to collect a hand smoothed mini skirt all the eager, steps up to guide sticks into either clasp. Himari is gungho as ever to clip right into a rhythm. Wood pitter patters to the snare til she’s bold enough to tap along the two toms up front. One crack to a cymbal ends her confidence streak, rather cringing against the shatter. “That doesn’t sound so good...”

“Here, like this,” Tomoe says, noticing no worse than a quick shrill by her years of up close immunity. But, no matter the no matter, cares more for the grasp upon the other’s right hand to guide the thrum more toward the center. “It’s good to be loud with the whole band and the crowd and everything, but for now, just tone it down a _liiittle_ bit.”

“You’re so smart, Tomoe,” she marvels, bobbing her head in tune to the tapping.

“Keep your elbows up.” Ignores the praise in no intentional strokes but rather feeling the moment too deeply in passion; her instructions go alongside motions in physical, hands to place her arms wide. Tomoe loses herself in the vibes, in how Himari moves about the stifling room without a care for the the damp along her neckline, only the rush of song about them that’s carried a group, a duo together so near all their days. Though, quite hardly could it be defined in _song_ , more so idle thrashing and thrumming, breathing harsh within muscles close to quaking. Tomoe taps a boot where in glory sits a pedal, makes herself snort a nod downward at how simple it sings to work her up into fire this way. It lasts several beats more, that thrumming and thrapping, slows with wrists calming. She puckers out the mouth to glance over her. Himari tips her head back, peers up at her professor, hat slipping a fraction. And she grins.

“You’re still the best in the world.” Her eyes rest shut with that summer tea smile. Heat clamps a vise along Tomoe’s face. She finds herself trapped within sucralose silence, decides without a decision to be cool Udagawa who keeps composed around pretty ladies, the Udagawa Tomoe that controls the urge to kiss her best friend on her upside down pucker five seconds after she’s already leaned in. They blink to one another between the centimeter split of their faces.

A head rush shoves Himari to straight backed sitting, hands stiff on the lap for sticks discarded, and Tomoe cannot see her expression from its opposite facing, though knows it must dazzle the world in just the same scarlet drip as her own. A line wavers to replace her still stung mouth. She’s been told enough times in her life to think things through before leaping into them. She’s been told, though perhaps she’s yet to listen.

A glance dared straight proves a match to it. Himari’s flushed pretty beneath her cap, a hand cupping the cheek, a night gone to soft mauve thrill. “...Tsugu is gonna be shocked when I tell her about this.”

“E...Eh-?”

“I knew you had a crush on me, and she said I was just reading into things too much again,” laughs the other, pumping either elbow beside herself. Cheering. “This is so great. I can’t wait to be Tomoe’s girlfriend!”

“H-Himari!” Either hand waves before her. “I didn’t mean to- to, um... Well, uh...girl...friend?”

Laughing carries on to her hopping up into clasping one of those hands, though her hesitance is viable, fronting the collected type now to defy mortification. Himari _breathes_ a fast note, lips writhing as they slip into quiet. “You’re always playing the cool guy, but you’re really super cute underneath... This is just like a girls’ manga!”

“Ah...” She raises her second hand to the back of the neck. “Well, I...I guess I can be a bit dumb sometimes...”

Tails tilt along her shoulders. “I said cute, not dumb.” The touch splits to plants arms akimbo. “Now, let’s finish packing up, I want to get ice cream at the café before we go home!”

“Right...” Incredulous mirth writes across her. “You deserve it.”

Himari smirks sweet as floss into a wink her way.

Chilled air floats against their skin the next evening practice session.


End file.
